


its not too late (it's never too late)

by mallyrn



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Running Away, Trans Turin, Transphobia, Turin has DID, badly written because im unwell, beleg luthien gwindor and finduilas are his alters, im sorry, written by someone with actual alters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallyrn/pseuds/mallyrn
Summary: (Modern!AU)Turin's life is hell, but at least he has his friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this'll probably be be very very badly written because, on top of my new meds being a problem, i had hand surgery. ugh. don't let anyone tell you life _isn't_ pain. they are probably on LSD, or trying to kidnap you, or both.
> 
> also, my system is quoigenic. turin's here is traumagenic. theres a difference.
> 
> title from 'never too late' by three days grace. sorrynotsorry

Turin's breath came fast and uneven, and he clenched his fists to stop from screaming. Tears pricked his eyes as he stared viciously at this chest, on his body, that wasn't really his. 

 

His mother called from the kitchen, using the wrong name, as usual. He brushed a strand of shoulder-length dark hair out of his already-stinging eyes, and ignored her. "Lalaith! It's time for dinner." Her voice came closer, and he raised his head to glare at the door. "Leave me alone, woman." Morwen poked her head inside his room, expression stern. "Don't take that tone with me, young lady." Honestly, ever since he'd come out to them, she'd gone out of her way to call him things like 'young lady,' or 'my daughter.' He hated it. 

 

"Not a lady," he mumbled under his breath, too quiet for her to hear, and stood to leave the room.

 

* * *

 

At the table, his sister greeted him with a smile. "Hey," she said, and then, when he took his place next to her, whispered, "Turin." 

Nienor was the only one in the house to call him by his real name, even if she only did so in secret. Sometimes, when he was with his sister, Turin could almost imagine he belonged. Usually Morwen would barge in later and call him 'Lalaith,' and then he'd realize that he didn't, and never would.

 

No, the only place he belonged, was with _them_.

 

* * *

 

 

When he was six years old, Turin had no one.

Nienor was in a foster home, across the city. His mother had somehow kept custody of him - today he suspected some sort of fraud, or maybe a corrupt attorney. But back then, she had a boyfriend - some really awful dude called Brodda, who would lock Turin in his room twice a week, when he had his buddies over to watch sports and drink and probably do some nasty shit to his mom. 

Morwen would call Turin names, and tell him he wished he'd never been born, because then she wouldn't be stuck with Brodda. He'd never understood why that was, but Morwen told him, so he believed it.

 

But, by his seventh birthday, he finally had someone. 

* * *

 

 

His name was Beleg, and he was nice. He said he was ten years old, and that he was here to be Turin's friend. He didn't know where he was from, only that it was someplace inside Turin's mind.

 

Others soon followed. Luthien, a sixteen year old girl, who said she would protect him; Gwindor, a twelve year old boy with an interest in the politics of fictional governments;  and Finduilas, the sweet thirteen year old fashionista, who helped Turin pick out masculine clothing in the girls' section, when he was still in the closet. 

 

Turin, now sixteen, can't wait to get out of his shitty house and take Nienor with him. He's not afraid, because he knows his friends will help him.

 

* * *

 

 

On his seventeenth birthday, Turin is nowhere to be found, and neither is Nienor.

 

Turin took all the cash he'd stolen from his mother - and, a few years ago, Brodda - from it's hiding place, packed his and Nienor's things while Morwen was away drinking, and left their apartment.

 

He had called someone from Child Services, and told them about his mother. He had a journal, of all the times he'd been abused, written down in detail to make a better case against her. He's taking it to the police.

He finds out that Brodda landed himself in jail for money laundering, and that his mother has been evading taxes for years. The police are already looking for her.

 

 

He can't bring himself to trust the police, not entirely, but at least he and Nienor have a better chance at happiness.


	2. A/N

I'm going to re-write this eventually. I'm in the middle of writing my fic for TRSB19, and on top of that, I'm going to be replacing my previous MCU/CoH crossover (which I just now deleted) with something a lot less dark.

 

My gender headcanon for Túrin has changed drastically, so this story doesn't seem right to me anymore.

 

Sorry for any inconvenience!

 

\- mallyrn


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